Helen Hell
by LLPOBAW
Summary: What if Aunt Helen never died? Could Patrick and Sam save Charlie from his own slow hell? This is a sort of short little story in an alternate universe. No pairings, but mentions of Brad/Patrick. Read & Review & Be Strong
1. Chapter 1

"Charlie…" Sam whispered. She knitted her eyebrows at me, giving me a look of pure sympathy. I swallowed the overwhelmingly large lump in my throat and looked away. She didn't bother to ask why I did it. She just hugged me, holding me close, easing my pain, even if just for a moment.

Blood stained the white carpet of Patrick's bedroom. I felt the warm liquid dripping from my fingertips, chilling me to the bone, but helping me know that I was still alive.

"I'm sorry…" I whimpered softly. Patrick stood behind Sam, looking at me with those sad eyes. I'd only seen him this upset one other time: right after he and Brad broke up.

"Charlie, are you doing okay?" he asked. I felt my eyes fill with tears. My efforts to hold them back were for nothing. Patrick hugged me, his concern creating a strange atmosphere. I'd never really had people concerned for me before. I cried harder.

Sam simply pulled out a few bandages from her bag and placed them delicately around my wrist. "If you ever feel like cutting again, I need you to tell me, Charlie," she said sternly but caringly. I nodded, feeling so pathetic and stupid.

I hadn't yet told them what Aunt Helen was doing to me. I felt like they wouldn't understand and accuse me of being some kind of sick slut, or worse… They could leave me… Pure panic set in as that thought flickered through my mind. Patrick saw it in my eyes. He cocked his head to the side in a questioning look, but didn't say a word.

_I can't survive without them. I can't. Please, please don't let them leave me._

Sam and Patrick let me stay with them that night. I lay on my back on the floor, staring at the ceiling and trying not to think. Aunt Helen would be expecting me home soon, and when I didn't come, she'd get angry with me. That thought terrified me.

I looked over at Sam and Patrick, the two people who mean the world to me. Patrick was cuddling softly with Sam, both sound asleep. I felt tears well up in my eyes again, dreading the thought of them finding out what was happening.

_"Shh, Charlie, don't wake your sister." I felt her hands dance up my thighs slowly, and she leaned forward to kiss me. I silently begged Candice to wake up, but I knew she couldn't save me._

_ I sat as still as I could, trying to give subtle hints that I didn't like what she was doing. I couldn't look at her, or I'd start crying again, and she'd get angry._

_ "Charlie..." she moaned softly. "Charlie… Charlie." Her words became more and more forceful. "Charlie!"_

I bolted upright. "Charlie, what's wrong?" Sam asked, genuine concern radiating in her voice. I realized that I was sobbing uncontrollably, and I couldn't stop it. I just sat there, stunned, with terrorized tears streaking down my cheeks. I couldn't even tell myself to stop crying. I just kept doing it. Bawling on Sam's bedroom floor, I realized how helpless everything was, and how much I wanted to quit. I didn't want to participate at all. I just wanted to be done.

Patrick came to one side of me, and Sam to the other, and they both just held me until the tears finally subsided. I stared blankly at the walls, not having the energy to speak. I could feel both of them looking at me, _judging me, _but it didn't matter. Nothing mattered, because I knew what I had to do.

"What's wrong with me?" I mumbled. Sam gave me that look – the same one she gave me when I told her about Michael. She whispered something in Patrick's ear, but I barely noticed.

I looked from Sam to Patrick, seeing the love in their eyes, but not knowing that it was actually love I was seeing because it was an emotion I'd never felt before them. To love is a great feeling that anyone can feel. But to be loved is rare, and only a handful of people ever experience what I felt sitting there on the floor at that exact moment. I couldn't connect any human words to what I was feeling. _Together _seemed to fit, sort of, but it was a bit of a stretch.

Sam and Patrick eventually fell back asleep. As soon as Patrick shut his eyes finally, I kissed both of them in a friendly way on the cheek and made my way to the front door. I didn't walk home; my family didn't expect me to. Instead I marched straight to Aunt Helen's house, crying the whole way.

I would do anything to be someone else, anyone else, and not have to have Aunt Helen in my life. I've asked God to kill her so many times, but my prayers were never answered. I've asked God to kill me, but I'm still living. But I've never asked to swap places with anyone, because there are some things that I wouldn't wish on the most horrible of people, not on Derek, or Craig, or even Aunt Helen herself.

I then decided that I wasn't going to Aunt Helen's. I stopped outside of my own house and pulled out my bag. I kept a bottle of my anti-depressants in my bag for emergencies. The normal dosage was two small pills every morning and night.

I slowly slid one pill onto my tongue and swallowed it. Then came another, and another. I counted up to ten pills, then lost track. I swallowed every pill, feeling a sharp pain in my stomach all the while. The corners of my vision were getting fuzzy, and I started staggering in my footsteps as I walked toward my house. The snow seemed to come down harder.

I fell to my knees on the doorstep and threw up. I felt hollow and empty, without anything inside. I lacked any feeling in my fingers and toes, and soon I was numb everywhere.

Candice opened the front door, holding hands with Derek and smiling. She held a vase in her free hand, filled with roses of every color, from white to blue to red to pink. She looked down, made eye contact with me, saw the puke, and screamed. The vase fell from her hand and shattered at her feet. I felt hands at my sides, trying to pull me up. Then everything went dark.


	2. Chapter 2

_Sing me to sleep  
Sing me to sleep  
I'm tired and I  
I want to go to bed_

Sing me to sleep  
Sing me to sleep  
And then leave me alone  
Don't try to wake me in the morning  
'Cause I will be gone  
Don't feel bad for me  
I want you to know  
Deep in the cell of my heart  
I will feel so glad to go

Sing me to sleep  
Sing me to sleep  
I don't want to wake up  
On my own anymore

Sing to me  
Sing to me  
I don't want to wake up  
On my own anymore

Don't feel bad for me  
I want you to know  
Deep in the cell of my heart  
I really want to go

There is another world  
There is a better world  
Well, there must be  
Well, there must be  
Well, there must be  
Well, there must be  
Well ...

Bye bye  
Bye bye  
Bye ...

"Charlie…" Someone lightly brushed my hair back. "Charlie… car shoe snake?" My eyes opened for just a moment. I felt a sharp pain in my throat and immediately squeezed them shut. "Charlie…" the person said again. I didn't understand what he or she was saying, and try as I might, I wasn't able to tell who it was.

I felt a hand brush against my arm, paralyzing me with fear. I whined softly, wanting to get away, but not having the strength. "Charlie?" The visitor asked again. "Are you awake?" I lightly peeked at the guest, fearing the sight of Aunt Helen.

Before I continue, I should let you know that my relationship with Aunt Helen isn't a malicious one. She's still the same friendly aunt I had when I was little. She still buys me presents at Christmas, she still went to all of my school plays, and she's the one who picked me up from the office because I beat up Brad's friends for picking on Patrick. She's a nice lady, and I guess I love her, but now that I understand what she's doing to me, I realize that she's insane. I'm afraid of her, but she doesn't know it, because I act happy when she's around and I come to her for advice about Sam and Patrick and Brad and Candice. She understands how I can be both happy and sad at the same time, even if I don't get it myself. We have a complex relationship, because I both love and hate her.

When I was finally able open my eyes, I saw that the person beside my bed wasn't Aunt Helen, or Candice, or even Sam or Patrick. It was Brad, the jerk of a jock, coming to see if the loser was okay. I thought that was slightly out of character for him, but I just shrugged it off.

"Yes?" I asked. It wasn't rude or anything, but it definitely wasn't friendly, considering the way he treated Patrick.

"Charlie, I'm sorry," Brad whispered. _Sorry? For what? Calling Patrick a faggot in the cafeteria? Letting your friends beat him up? Breaking Patrick's heart entirely? Patrick was on freaking DRUGS to try to forget the heartbreak, and you have the NERVE to say "sorry" to me?! _

"Hmm?" I asked.

"About the fact that you're in here, I'm sorry. When I heard the news, I came immediately. I've been here for as long as they'll let me."

"Where am I?" I asked. My throat had sharp pains prickling through it, but I tried not to think about it.

"You're in the hospital, Charlie… They pumped your stomach."

"Why are you here?" I asked, coming across as rude as I could. Brad put his head down.

"Tell anyone this and I'll deny everything…" he whispered.

"Go on…" I said, my interest building.

"When my dad caught me and Patrick, and he beat me up… I tried to do it, too," Brad confessed.

"Tried to do… _what_…?" I asked, puzzled.

"I did the same thing you did…" Brad whispered. I don't think he could bring himself to say the word _suicide_ but I understood what he meant.

"You mean, you…" I started, but he cut me off.

"Yes, yes, and Patrick took me to the hospital, claimed I accidentally ate some rat poison, and they pumped my stomach and let me go."

"I thought that Patrick hated you?" I asked, confused.

"I thought he did, too, but Patrick's a caring guy. We haven't talked since that day, but I know that he still cares, and I still care, and…" Brad started.

"No," I said, cutting him off. He cocked his head to the side. "No," I repeated, more forcefully.

"What?" he asked.

"No, don't feed me that bullshit. You didn't care."

"Yes, Charlie, I did care…"

"Oh? Then why the _hell_ did you let your goons beat him up? Why'd you call him a faggot? Why'd you kick him out when he tried to help you? I don't know if this is news to you, but that's not something people who care _do._" I didn't sound angry; I was speaking in a calm tone of voice. Inside, though, I could feel the red flames of anger nipping away at every inch of my being, threatening to consume me. I looked down at my fist, a reminder of what I did to keep Patrick safe, of what I'd do to keep my friends safe. Brad nodded sadly, and we sat in silence until he finally left.

It was hours before I got another visitor. I spent my time sitting at the window, looking down at life going by as if mine had not almost come to an end. A little girl was learning to ride a bike. An older couple planted a small tree near the pond. A father was teaching his son how to fish. And looking at these people, I was filled with wonder, with a sense of unity, because I had done these things myself. There were people who are more than just a sad story. There are people who are more than the judgmental glances they've gotten. There are _people_, not empty plots of land where graves are going to be placed. And looking at these _people_, I felt a sense of hope, and, even though it flickered, it was still hope, and it still helped me see the light at the end of this giant downward spiral of depression.

Candice was the next one to come visit me. She brought flowers. Roses, of every color, just like the ones she dropped when she saved me. She was the one I told about Aunt Helen. My sister didn't judge me. She didn't doubt what I told her. She believed me, and, when she left to tell the doctor, she gave me a bowl of sherbet from the hotel's cafeteria. As I ate my orange ice cream, I watched her talk to the doctor through the window. I think she was crying, but it might have been me.

A lot happened in the next few days. Candice visited me a lot and told me she loved me and hugged me a lot. And Aunt Helen was arrested, charged with statutory rape, and sentenced to 15 years in prison. It's okay, though, because my parents can still visit her if they want. When I asked them if they wanted to soon, though, they just smiled at me and told me to go write more.

When Sam and Patrick found out, I was worried they'd judge me on my past, but they didn't, and I knew it was because I didn't judge them on their past. And they brought Mary Elizabeth, and Alice, and Bob, and for the first time since I'd met them, I felt like I belonged in their group. Even though we all feel like we're not much, like we're alone, when we're all together, we are more than a few sad stories stitched together by tears. We are more than judgmental glances in the hallways of life. We are all special. We are all unique. And most importantly, we are all loved. And that's all that really matters.

* * *

**Aaaand, that's a wrap. It's not my favorite story I've ever written, and it's pretty short, but I'll keep it up. Feel free to give suggestions for any new stories. xD Thanks for reading and the support! **

**~Ty**

**And by the way, that song was "Asleep" by the Smiths, both mine and Charlie's favorite song. It's awesome, check it out!**


End file.
